


Safe House

by mystery_deer



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: I wrote this on a whim and just a warning it might beee stupid and exponentially so, M/M, Mental Health Issues, and you're trapped in a safe house indefinitely, it must have been really hard, someone help kevin, your husband almost dies and so do you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-10-13 17:02:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17491832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mystery_deer/pseuds/mystery_deer
Summary: Kevin suffers after his time in the safe house





	1. Lungs

Whenever Raymond left, Kevin felt fear grip him like a vice.  
It was a familiar feeling, when they first moved in together they used to bicker about Raymond’s job as an officer when he’d take unnecessary risks.  
“They’re not unnecessary. Sometimes things get dangerous, that is the job Kevin.” and though he suspected him of lying they’d gotten through it and over time that fear had subsided. So much so that for months at a time Kevin didn’t worry for his husband’s safety. His days were largely spent at a desk managing his detectives like a sheep herder (“They remind me more of cats most days.”) 

The feeling had started after he began to drive back to the safe house and hadn’t dissipated. Even after Seamus Murphy had been taken away, his operation wiped clean and Raymond was back in his arms. The sight of him tied to that chair moments from death stayed with him. It haunted him like a specter day and night lingering around his heart and ears, whispering.  
Raymondcoulddiehecoulddiehecoulddie. 

He brought a small radio to the university and tuned it to the news 24/7. When anyone asked why he just smiled slightly and said it was good to be informed.  
He’d had trouble sleeping since he first set foot in the safe house, it felt uneasy being there. Especially once the security measures were doubled, they had to take shifts to sleep so that one of them could always stand guard. He felt like he was trapped, the weight of paranoia pressing down against him that wasn’t removed (as he’d hoped) simply by being back in his own home. The hours would melt into each other as he half-listened to Raymond sleep, stuck in a purgatory between the waking world and a dream. He’d often see Raymond being snatched away, being shot, he’d hear the bullet slam into him and almost feel the blood spray against his face before realizing he was dreaming. He didn’t scream but he did groan, something Raymond told him over breakfast one morning.

“You have been...groaning in your sleep a lot.” Kevin continued to pour orange juice into their glasses, remembering last night’s recurring nightmare in which every time he closed his eyes he was met with the image of a dark figure wielding a kitchen knife, ready to strike.  
“I have? I apologize. I must be having bad dreams.”  
“Is it anything I could assist you with? I read a book about dreams back in the 80’s, it was largely unhelpful in catching Kruger.”  
“Freddy Kruger?”  
“We called him that because he had a nasty habit of killing victims in their sleep.” Kevin felt his blood pressure spike. “I was assigned the book as a joke of course but it did help me understand that my dreams about Wunch turning into a giant cobra and eating me whole were about work related stress.”  
“While that is fascinating Raymond I would like to remind you of our no shop talk rule?” Raymond nodded minutely.  
“I apologize.”  
“I accept your apology and I really have no need for a book on dreams. I can’t even remember them.”

After a month of this Kevin began to worry about Raymond even when he was home. That relief that initially came to assuage the fear for his husband’s safety slowly lessened until the feeling was so minimal it could hardly be called relief at all.  
He began checking the doors and windows before bed after brushing his teeth, he read articles about points of entry that burglars took and how they chose which houses to strike. One day during their lunchtime call he asked Raymond if he thought their home was safe.  
“What?”  
“I was just wondering. One of our neighbours just changed the locks on her doors, she said that they were easy to break into.”  
“Our home is very safe Kevin, I do not see a reason to worry.” They were both quiet for a moment. “Have you been worrying?”  
Yes. Everyday. It’s like I’m still trapped in that horrible place, in those dull walls where the days crawl by devoid of any joy or aim. All I do is worry about you, about myself. All I think about are safety hazards and death and I’m drowning Raymond, I’m drowning in worry and I fear that I’m doing a worse job of keeping my head above water than I thought.  
“No, no. I just wanted a police captain’s perspective.”  
“Well as a police captain and your husband my opinion is that our house is safe. We are located in a good neighbourhood and Mrs.Greenly is only being a bit paranoid in her old age.”  
“Of course, thank you. Ah, anyway you were telling me about…”  
I’m afraid one day I’ll never reach the surface again.


	2. Apiphobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kevin confides in Holt

Raymond opened the door to his home, holding back a yawn. He’d had to work late which wasn’t anything new but it was new to find his husband asleep on the couch. Kevin had always wholeheartedly agreed with Raymond about the importance of lumbar support (“The spine is a highway for all your nerves after all”) and if it could be avoided he never slept on the couch. He approached his sleeping form, wondering if he was feeling ill. “Kevin?” he whispered, touching his shoulder lightly. “Are y-”

Kevin jolted awake as if he’d been attacked instead of gently touched and nearly fell from his spot on the couch. Raymond jumped back and held back a startled scream as Kevin realized what had happened and sank back down, breathing heavily.   
“....Are you alright?” Raymond tried again, clutching his chest. “You don’t usually sleep on the couch.”   
“I was waiting for you.” Kevin explained, hands shaking. “I must have fallen asleep, I didn’t intend to.” Raymond watched his fingers twitch.

“You have not been sleeping well lately. Not since...”  
“It’s been difficult adjusting to sleeping with another person next to me.”  
“Oh? I thought it was because you were having bad dreams.”  
“I told you I don’t remember-”  
“Or because you were adjusting to the bed, or the house, or-”  
“It’s everything Raymond!” Kevin paused, recollected himself. He hadn’t meant to sound so...sharp. It wasn’t like him to be so short-tempered, he wasn’t acting like himself lately. It made him anxious, he didn’t like this. He was a man of routine, he liked everything to be in order and everything had so suddenly been uprooted and mashed until unrecognizable. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“I do not care.”  
“No, I really should control-”  
“I...do not...care.” Raymond stressed, approaching his husband and taking his trembling hand in his own. It was steady, warm. “And I would not- will not care if you snap at me a hundred more times, we will get to the bottom of this together, and come out the other side.”  
“You sound like an inane Doctor Seuss book.”  
“Not even debilitating insults such as that will dissuade me from this line of questioning.”

Kevin was relieved despite himself. This was...confusing. He wanted to tell Raymond, knew intellectually that he should tell Raymond, but something was preventing him. He felt like a child again, believing that saying something was manifesting it somehow. If his fears were left unsaid, if they only tortured him then they might be fictional. If he was the only one being hurt by something, who was to say it wasn’t made up? He was so afraid all the time. 

“We should watch a movie.” Raymond looked at him in shock.  
“Now? It’s late, if we were going to watch a movie we should have watched it at six. After seven it’s just...wrong.”  
“You were not home at six, through no fault of your own. And we cannot wait, I cannot..wait. It has to be now.” Raymond glanced at the clock and sighed softly, already giving in. He could feel how anxious Kevin was.   
“Alright. What are we watching?”  
“The Wicker Man.” Raymond looked ready to flee but after seeing Kevin’s face again he stilled and braced himself. This was going to be a long night.  
\-----------  
Half of the movie had passed with little comment from either man other than Raymond scoffing when it was uncontrollable. Kevin suddenly rested his head against his husband. “This is a terrible movie.”

“Yes, it is.” Raymond agreed, relieved that the love of his life wasn’t actually enjoying this.  
“It must be frustrating however, he’s so confused. His acting is atrocious, Nicolas Cage, but the character. Everything is...not how it should be. No one is acting right, no one will...tell him what’s going on, despite his best efforts.” Kevin felt his husband reach over and take his hand again, running his thumb over his knuckles. It soothed him. “He feels like he is danger, like something horrible is going on and he doesn’t know what to do.” Kevin grasped his hand tightly. “It’s awful. He’s terrified.” He looks over and catches his husband’s eyes before looking away and gazing at the clock on the wall instead. “I’m terrified Raymond-” He started, taking a shaky breath. He covered his mouth and blinked, a tear fell from his eyes. They were burning. 

“I apologize. I am sorry Kevin.” Said Raymond, his voice also trembling with emotion. “I am so sorry that I could not help you.”   
“It’s not your fault.”  
“And I am sorry that I put you in that situation, I was so reckless and I felt like it was...I just wanted to keep you safe but I- I terrified you, I made the love of my life miserable I-” He was hushed by Kevin hugging him. His embrace was firm and loving, it always was. Kevin didn’t usually take to hugs, the feeling of someone enveloping him, surrounding him on all sides was usually unpleasant but hugging was not as distressing. Especially when he was how much Raymond was hurting. Raymond wrapped his arms loosely around him and Kevin whispered that it was okay so his grip tightened. They were silent, they let their tears fall in peace.

“We are going to get through this together.” Kevin said, echoing his husband’s earlier sentiment.  
“Yes, we are.” Raymond agreed. “I will not let you...be...eaten by bees!?” Holt asked incredulously while gesturing in rage towards the television. Kevin grimaced and switched it off immediately, the so-called ‘movie’ having served what little use it had. “By bees Kevin!?”

“I hadn’t seen the end I always stormed off beforehand...I’d heard stories but...good lord.” 

They spent the rest of the night in their bedroom, complaining about that horrid film. Kevin took the time to regale his husband with horror stories about some of what Peralta considered “classic films” and was entertained by his husband’s colorful reactions.   
He was sleepily ranting about the atrocious affront to science and police work that “face-off” was as Kevin drifted off to sleep, smiling softly.

And for the first time in months, he didn’t dream.


End file.
